


Anánke

by Sevi007



Series: The Devil's own luck [15]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Immortal / mortal pair, Mortality, this was supposed to be fluff and then the angst came in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26289871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevi007/pseuds/Sevi007
Summary: Ananke(/əˈnæŋkiː/; "force, constraint, necessity") - the personification of inevitability, compulsion and necessityThey promised each other forever, even knowing they could not have it.
Relationships: Eva/Sparda (Devil May Cry)
Series: The Devil's own luck [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1223174
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	Anánke

**Author's Note:**

> I found the word "Ananke" and the meaning "inevitable" kind of stuck with me and got me thinking. That's really all I can say in my defense here.
> 
> And. You know. I'm really sorry.

It started out like these things often did; small and harmless.

It was the glimpse of a fine line in her face, one morning in front of the mirror, which was unfamiliar to her.

It was a few grey hairs sneaking in between her golden locks, prompting her to joke about her boys giving her grey hair once the initial shock had passed.

It was the shortness of breath after chasing the laughing twins around the garden which seemed to come faster every time they played together. 

Small, so small. But together, it accumulated and painted a picture she did not want to look at.

Do not misunderstand. Eva was not a vain woman, despite her beauty. It was not vanity that made her avert her gaze, avoid the truth in front of her eyes.

It was the reminder of her own mortality which did it. Her mortality, and her lover’s lack thereof.

All those thoughts and more of similar kind swirled around in Eva’s mind as she lay there in the dark, eyes wide open and unable to sleep even in her husband’s arms and with his calm breathing to lull her. Instead she found herself taking advantage of the dim moonlight to let her gaze travel the planes of Sparda’s face: Relaxed in slumber, soft yet sharp in the light and shadows cast over it. Untouched by the many, _many_ years he had seen pass by.

She wished she could have said the same about herself. Wished it with an intensity so strong it _hurt_ , tightened her chest and made her eyes burn.

People, she remembered suddenly, people who did not know them very well often thought there was an age gap between the two of them, simply because of the snow-white color of his hair. They might have simply been judging by appearance and yet had been, without knowing the story behind it, closer to the truth than they could have known. It had become a private joke between Sparda and her, at some point; a quick exchanged glance before they hid their smiles, a shared glee over the bemused looks it got them. A mysterious _You don’t know the half of it_ offered to the unsuspecting opposite to confuse them further, and heighten their shared amusement.

This time, the memory of it did not manage to make her smile.

This time, it made her think _Someday, they will think_ I’m _the older one,_ and her eyes burned even more. 

She must have uttered a sound, then. Perhaps a breath too close to a sob; perhaps a sniffle she couldn’t quite hold back. Whatever it had been, it was enough, and when she realized, it was already too late. The calm breaths next to her shuddered, then changed tune as the instincts of a warrior snapped Sparda awake immediately. His breathing hitched, he shifted, and before Eva could even attempt to try and slap a hand over her mouth to quiet herself, the arms around her tightened and his sleep-roughened voice rumbled “Eva?”

 _It’s fine_ , what was she meant to say. _I’m sorry, go back to sleep_ , was what she should have said. Instead, all she could manage was yet another of those not-quite-sobs. The rattle of it seemed to shake something loose, and to her shock, she felt the first of the tears burning in her eyes escape against her wishes. _No. Nonono._

“ _Eva,_ ” much, much more awake now; concern and fear the likes of which she had never heard from him echoing in his voice as he shot upwards, pushing himself up onto one elbow. His hand found her face securely even in the dark, his night vision a curse to her in this moment, and she just _knew_ he was trying to find her gaze even if she could not see it through tears and darkness. “Eva, love, what-…?” 

Whatever she had meant to say in answer was lost to yet more sobbing. The more she tried to wrestle the sounds back down, the more seemed to surface, until she was crying outright, shaking with the force of it.

For one beat, Sparda stayed absolutely frozen. Then he sat up completely to lean against the headboard, pulling her with him as easily as if she weighed nothing, and lifted her into his lap. His arms went around her like vices, and infinitely tender hands gathered her against him so she was crying into his shoulder, fists curling against his chest in her search for solidness and safety. His voice was so quiet, it should have been lost in the noise she was making, “Shhhh. Shhhhh, Eva, I am here. I am here. All will be fine now, I promise.” 

Between all the crying, Eva did not even have the breath to tell him how utterly, horribly wrong he was. Oh, she attempted to; gasped for breaths to get the words out, to scream them. But all she manage was more sobs, stifled against his shoulder, and more tears to stain his skin with. She cried and cried, until her chest hurt even more and her eyes were puffy. Until she was only shaking silently in his arms, cold and hurting. And no relief set in at all.

Sparda waited patiently for her. Stroked her hair and her back while murmuring sweet things she couldn’t hear over her own noises into her ear. Wiped away tears again and again, futile as it was, while he rocked her soothingly. Only once she fell still, breathing raggedly, did he speak louder than a whisper “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head No even though she felt as if someone had ripped her heart to shreds and left it there bleeding. It was not the kind of pain he asked for, she knew. This was not physical.

“A nightmare, then?” When she denied mutely, hiccupping forlornly, once again, Sparda’s voice turned near pleading. “Eva, I do not know what is paining you.”

“It’s silly” she managed, voice broken from her crying. Although it was not the right word to describe her dilemma. _Inevitable_ was more like it.

“Nothing that leaves you in a state such as this can possibly be,” a tender touch directed her away from his shoulder, coaxed her to face him. This close, she could make out the fear and love in his eyes even in the twilight. “Please. Tell me how to make this right again.”

 _You can’t,_ she thought, the knowledge of it almost enough to make her cry anew. Only the fact that she had no more tears right now saved her from another wave of it. Squeezing her eyes shut in the hope not seeing his eyes, eyes she loved so very much. Either he would not understand her dilemma, or he would be as hurt by it as she was. Both she could not stand to see, right then. So she tipped her forehead against his, rushing the words out, “I’m getting older, and it _scares_ me, Sparda.”

At that, he fell still; so utterly silent she was not even sure he was breathing anymore. It radiated a shock that nearly shook her out of it and made her falter, but she couldn’t, not now. The words rushed out of her, all the worries she had kept to herself and which had accumulated, bursting forth in a jumbled mess, “Every few days I find something else that reminds me of getting older, and I don’t want to see it but I _do_ , and then I can’t stop looking for it, and… it’s too early, it’s way too early, but it just _doesn’t stop,_ and I’m so scared, I want it to _stop_ , I…”

“Eva…”

“I always knew this would happen, someday, but not so early! I just… I just _found you,_ I don’t want to… I promised you forever,” by now she was blubbering, must have looked a mess because she was hysteric and angry at everything, and she couldn’t even tell if her words were making sense anymore. “My weddings vows, do you remember? I promised _forever_ , because that’s what I want with you, and the boys, and… I don’t want it to end. I don’t want it to end, and it’s all going to be my fault!”

“Eva!”

Hands cradled her face, thumbs pressed against her cheeks and tried to get her to open her eyes and look at him, but she sobbed only louder, refusing. She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the realization set in when her words reached him.

The gentle nudging stopped when Sparda realized it would get him nowhere. Instead he drew her in closer again, hugging her tightly while he dropped quick, hard kisses to the crown of her head. “Do not _ever,”_ his voice was hoarse and quiet, but commanding, “ _ever_ blame yourself for…”

She shook her head even as he uttered an angry, frustrated sound at her denial. It _was_ her fault; it was. She would age and die and _leave_ him and it would _hurt him_. Him, who had already suffered so much for the sake of others. It was not fair, and she hated herself for it already.

Above her, he fell still, face pressed against her hair, breath as ragged as hers. For a moment they sat quietly, their choked breaths the noise in the room, before he spoke again, quiet and firm. “… I promised you forever, too, Eva.”

Something in him, a shift of mood, made her grow even quieter, listening intently.

“I promised you forever, knowing we would not be that lucky. Still I meant every single word,” his arms squeezed tight around her, a silent _believe me._ Sniffling, she grasped for one of his hands on her shoulder, squeezing it tight in answer. Prompted him to continue, which he did. “I wanted forever as much as you did, and the thought of it never coming…”

A deep breath, then, choked, “I do not think about it.”

The words needed a beat to sink in. Once they did, Eva blinked her eyes open and leaned back to look at him, surprise and something akin to shock coursing through her at the sheer simplicity of the statement. It must have shown clear as day on her face, for Sparda smiled a touch self-deprecatingly as he reached to wipe away a stray tear from her cheek.

“Just… like that. It’s… that easy?” Her voice was so weak she wondered if even he could hear it. He just _didn’t think about it,_ and that was _it?_

Had she been this worked up about nothing, if it was so simple?

The sound ripped from Sparda’s throat at that was a hollow attempt at wry amusement, tugging at her heart. He shook his head firmly. “No, love. It is probably the most difficult thing I have ever done.”

“But…” It didn’t make _sense_. She had never _noticed_. “But then how do you…how can you _live_ with it?” 

“I imagine it is similar to how _you_ do it.”

Even more confusion washed through Eva, and she shook her head helplessly. She had just proven that she could not do it as he, apparently, did. “I’m… I’m not at good at this as you are, I think…”

“But you are. … no, Eva, _listen_ to me. You _are_.” Gently, he caught her chin to stop her mute denial, and directed her to look at him again. “Every time I leave for my work, and Hell knows it is too often… Do you never worry about me?”

“Of course I do!”

“And have you ever let it show?”

Her mouth was already opening, ready to form words of confirmation, when she realized that it would not be truthful. She remembered, clear as day, all the times fear had gripped her heart when he had been late to return, and she had pushed it back resolutely, refusing to let it take hold. All the many times Dante and Vergil had asked for him, and she had smiled through her own worry and told them their father would be back soon.

Without her needing to tell him, without even being there to witness it, he had correctly assumed how she felt about his absences.

“There,” he rumbled it with obvious satisfaction, having noticed the shift in her expression. His hand slid up to cup her cheek, thumb swiping along the arch of her cheekbone. “There you have it.”

“This…” her voice shook not only with surprise but with pain also. “It’s not the same.”

“How? Tell me.”

“You always come _back_.” The last word cracked apart under the weight of her emotions, slipping from her lips ugly and jagged.

Understanding softened his eyes and Sparda breathed out deeply, lips twisting into a wry smile as he leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek, soft as a breeze. “Your faith in my abilities is an honor, Eva. But we both know they are not endless. You, of all people, know that.” 

Of course she knew. _Of course_. But confessing to it – allowing herself to consider it a real possibility that one day, he wouldn’t come back to her-… the sheer implication of it all was so unfathomable, so scary, that…

“I can’t think about it.” She spoke the realization as soon as it set in. A sound rose in her throat, a mixture of a startled laugh and a broken sob, and she wiped uselessly at her itching eyes. “I _can’t_. That is what you’re trying to tell me, isn’t it? We _both_ can’t think about it.”

When he nodded, his expression reflected the same complicated mix of emotions she felt back at her; pain and resignation. “Denial might be a coward’s refuge. But in this, I am not strong enough to be brave.”

Eva wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream until it stopped hurting, or until the pain left her numb to the world. Before she knew it, a single, silent tear slipped down her cheek.

“I don’t want to leave you.” She did not even have it in her to feel ashamed over how childishly _pointless_ it sounded as she shook. “I don’t want to hurt you like that.”

And whatever calmness, whatever strength had been present in Sparda’s expression, simply feel apart. For just a second, he looked as pained and scared as she did, pale as a sheet as he squeezed his eyes shut and uttered a broken sound. His arms snapped tight around her waist, nearly crushing her against him in a hug so desperate it _hurt,_ and he hid his face against her temple. “ _Eva._ ”

She clung to him with the same desperate, crazed strength, gripping at his shoulder, his hair, anything to keep him close and never let go. “I don’t _want_ to hurt you.”

The breath he took was a shuddering thing; she heard it catch in his chest where she was tucked against, like shards of glass. And yet his voice was surprisingly firm as he spoke, drawing back only enough to drop a kiss to her temple. “And you will _not_.”

Firm but gentle, he nudged her back until they were eye to eye again, eased his hands from their tight grip on her to tenderly cradle her face instead. “You will not, Eva. I promise you.”

“But…”

One of his thumbs settled lightly against her lips, effectively cutting her off. “Your…,” he broke off, took a breath, and shook his head before continuing. “You being gone will… it will break me.”

Another sound escaped her, despite his stilling fingers in place, and she saw the flicker of answering pain in his gaze before he continued, voice growing stronger. “But you… everything you gave me, all the memories of you… will be what heals me again.”

Slowly, slowly, a smile curled the corner of Sparda’s mouth, chasing away the harsh lines of fear and making his eyes glow as he leaned in, ghosting kisses against her lips, her cheeks, her forehead in between his words, “You will not be the end of me, Eva, love. You will be what _saves_ me.”

Something in her chest broke open and Eva started to sob again, dry and quiet this time, from an emotion unlike and yet very close to pain. Blindly she turned her head until she managed to capture his soft lips with hers in a kiss that bruised and was salty with her drying tears. Sparda made no attempt to gentle it; he met her beat for beat with the same desperation and love she telegraphed, until they were out of breath. Until the tears stopped not because she stopped hurting, but she simply had no more to give.

Once the onslaught was over, Eva felt wrung out and tired. Everything hurt, from her limbs to her heart, and all she wanted to do was sleep until everything stopped being so terrible.

Instead, she tucked her cheek against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart, trying to match her breathing to it. Sparda seemed to be of a similar mind; at some point, one of his hands had loosely wrapped around her wrist, thumb settled against the pulse fluttering on the soft inside of it, stroking gently over it.

Searching, much like she was doing, for the proof that they were still here.

 _Yes. I am still here,_ Eva thought suddenly, firmly and fiercely. Held onto knowledge with the same stubbornness with which she would have swung weapon against her fear, if she could have. _Still here, and not going anywhere so soon._

With this new found hope, weak as it was, she managed to raise her hand and settle it gently over his, still laying on her wrist. She knew the smile she gave him was a shaky thing, but it was _something_. “We still have time.”

Sparda’s expression did a complicated thing, tightening and easing at the same time. His smile only barely reached his eyes as he murmured, “We do.”

“Years. _Decades_ ,” Eva insisted, for his benefit as much as hers. Pushing herself up, she leaned their foreheads together once more, gazes locking as she declared, “I intend to stay around for a long, _long_ time. Even when I get wrinkly and grey in the process.”

The huff of laughter he released at that only barely strained. “Mh. Have ever I told you how much I like grey hair?”

It was a poor joke. He was doing it for her purpose, however, to ease her suffering in whatever way he could, and _that_ was what made her laugh, even if it sounded slightly hysteric to her own ears. “You don’t!”

“Of course I do. We will match,” a kiss to her temple, right over where she had spotted the first grey strands. _So he_ did _notice_ , shot through her mind, nearly prompting another round of tears. _He noticed, and he worried, and he never said._

_You were scared too, weren’t you?_

Impulsively, Eva reached for him, held his face in her hands like he had done with her, and dropped a kiss to his cheek. To his eyelid. To the tip of his nose. In between each one, she sprinkled her promise, whispered it fervently against his skin. “Every second. Every second I have with you, I’m going to love you, and love you, and _love you_ , so you will not ever forget how much you meant to me.”

A tiny sound slipped from his lips before Sparda could stop it, and his eyes shone wetly as he stopped her, held her still while he leaned in to kiss her. She felt his lips move as he answered, right before they crushed together, “As if I could _forget_.”

There was no more talking this night, after. Words would have been wasted; they would not have been enough to encompass all that they felt, and trying to fit it into sound anyway would have been a waste of the precious time they had. Instead, they told each other silently as they tried to get as close as possible to each other; intertwined until nobody could tell where one began and the other ended.

And when their kisses still tasted of tears as much as they did of smiles; and if their grip on each other was a little too tight and too desperate; then they did not speak about that, either.

They did not have forever, after all. And the time they _did_ have was better spent with loving each other than with grieving over what was to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were two… no, _three_ lines gathered at the corner of her eyes by now. The thinnest of crow feet, to tell an astute observer of all the times she had laughed, and cried, and laughed more than she cried.

Eva turned her head to one side, then the other, examining them from different angles. The first of appearance of one these lines had sent a pang of _fear-pain-denial_ through her.

Today, she smiled at her reflection and watched with contentment as the lines deepened, softening her eyes.

Quiet steps stopped behind her, close enough so his chest touched her back. When his arms wrapped carefully around her middle and his chin came to rest on her shoulder, she smiled even wider, lifting a hand to run it through strands of silver.

“Mmmmmh,” Sparda’s hum was half pleasure at the touch, half thoughtful musing. Tilting his head, he nuzzled against her temple, smiling lips gracing her ear “You are as beautiful as the day I first met you.”

Laughter bubbled out of her at that, carefree and light. “You horrible flatterer, you,” she chuckled once she found her voice again, twisting her head enough so she could gaze at him.

“I _never_ flatter,” he insisted, hiding his grin briefly in her hair when she laughed yet again.

They fell silent for a moment, then, both gazing at their intertwined reflections.

“We have time,” Eva said finally, with a surety that came from deep within. 

There was love and pride burning in his eyes when Sparda nodded. The hand on her waist shifted to gather her hand in his and lift it up to his lips so he could ghost a kiss over the wedding ring there, eyes never leaving hers. “We do.”

Once more, tears gathered in her eyes. Not from fear or pain – not only – but for a reason much sweeter. Turning in his arms, she reached for him, rocking onto her toes at the same time he leaned in-…

Their lips had only just brushed together when a shout drifted up the stairs, high with impatience _._ “Muuuum! Dad! Can we go now?! It’s _lunch time!_ ”

“They won’t be quicker because you yell at them,” could be heard much quieter, clearly annoyed.

Eva and Sparda shared a glance briefly. She couldn’t have said if it was the startled surprise in his expression or the situation itself, but a second later, Eva was laughing, muffling it barely with a hand pressed to her mouth, shaking with mirth.

Sparda rolled his eyes towards the ceiling while valiantly fighting his own smile. “… Although perhaps not as much as I thought, since I did not account for the daily feeding of little predators.”

It was said with such poorly faked graveness, Eva could drop her hand to laugh him right in the face before kissing him, quick and playful, still chuckling. “Hush, you. Don’t pretend you didn’t just smile when you heard them.”

“A trick of the light, I am sure.”

“Horrible,” she accused him once more with a smile.

“Yours,” he corrected, firm yet playful. With a sweep of his hand, he bowed shallowly to hear and offered his arm. “Shall we face the hungry beasts, then?”

“We shall,” linking her arm with his, she paused long enough to rock up and kiss him once more, longer and softer now. Enjoying how he opened up easily for her, humming happily. Once they parted again, she whispered only for his ears, “Thank you.”

A long, slow blink. “For what?”

_Everything._

“Going out for lunch,” she answered as they made their way towards the stairs, still intertwined. “It was exactly what I needed.”

Silently, Sparda squeezed her arm in answer, _You’re welcome_ and _I know_ all in once.

“There you are!” Dante was flailing his arms like windmills as he spotted them, calling up to them. “I’m soooooo hungry!”

“You’re _always_ hungry,” Vergil accused with a roll of his eyes so much like his father, Eva had to swallow a teary laugh suddenly tickling her throat.

“Yeah, and?” An annoyed look towards his twin before Dante’s ire was quickly forgotten in favor of beaming at his mother. “Mum, Mum! You look _so_ pretty!”

Annoyance and flattery, temper and control. They were so alike, and yet so different. So much like their father, and yet not. Eva had to stop at the bottom of the stairs, blinking against a new wave of emotion flooding her, bitter-sweet. Oh. _Oh_.

“Come here,” Eva managed, dropping to her knees, throwing out her arms as wide as she could. “Both of you. Please.”

She could tell they were surprised by the quick glance they exchanged. Still they did not hesitate for long, her sweet boys; rushed readily into her waiting arms so she could hold them as tight as she could possibly manage and press kisses to their cheeks and temples while she fought to keep the tears out of her voice as she spoke. “I love you both, so, _so_ much. No matter what happens, I love you, and I want you to know that. Okay?”

They squirmed in her hold for a beat – Vergil’s back ramrod straight, Dante as slippery as an eel – but Eva held fast. She couldn’t look at them right then; she knew without a doubt she would break into tears once more if she saw the question in their eyes, and she had cried quite enough for a long, long time.

So she held them, and waited, and drew a deep breath of relief when Dante relaxed again and readily threw his arms around her, chirping, “Love you too, Mum!”. It was enough for Vergil to ease up as well, not to be outdone as he mumbled an embarrassed confirmation into her shoulder and tried to hide his flushed face.

Eva laughed, loud and freeing. Releasing the both of them, she asked, “So? Who is ready for lunch?”

The reaction was immediate. Dante threw his arms up in a deafening cheer of “HUNGRY!” and flung himself around to hurtle out the door’s of the manor at breakneck speed. Vergil lingered for half a second, looking as if he wanted to say something, and decided against it at the last moment. Instead he whirled and followed his twin, shouting after him, “Dante, _wait!_ ” 

“… Do they even know where we are going?” Eva sniffled out a breath of laughter, rubbing as unsuspiciously as she could at her itching eyes.

“I highly doubt it. Not that that ever stopped them,” Sparda offered her his hand to help her back to her feet. Once she was standing again, their fingers threaded easily together, tight and unwilling to let go.

And once they exchanged smiles, equally parts fond and amused, Eva felt her heart finally grew a little lighter again.

For they were here, right now.

And she wouldn’t think about the inevitable end if she could enjoy _this_ , instead.

**Author's Note:**

> And then Capcom said NOPE and killed her off in her prime. (I'm still salty about this yeah)
> 
> I hope I got this approximately as SERIOUS as it should have been, and treated it with the necessary, uh... weight? Behind it? It's a really heavy subject, and I tried my best to make that clear, but I also didn't want to make it absolutely hopeless. After all, the two must have known what they signed up for, yes? They must have found a way to keep living with the knowledge, even if it was hard, sometimes. That's what I wanted to write here, and I hope I managed to do it right.


End file.
